Harry Potter and the Siege of Hogwarts
by The Strawberry Popper
Summary: Picking up from where the HalfBlood Prince left off, the Siege of Hogwarts proclaims the downfall of the great wizarding school. New characters, places, plot, but overall, all of it belongs to Rowling herself.
1. I: A Serious Cause For Concern

Harry James Potter sat in his bedroom at number four, Privet Drive. It was a hot summers day, and his window was open. He was packing his suitcase in the hope that the Dursleys would throw him out, therefore giving him a reason to run far away, far enough for Minerva McGonagall and all of her minions at Hogwarts to lose track of him at least.

During the term prior to that day, Harry had discovered that his mortal enemy, Lord Voldemort, had hidden pieces of his soul in objects called Horcruxes, making him almost immortal. After that, Harry had decided to make it his job to find and subsequently destroy these items of dangerous power.

Harry looked out of his window at his Aunt Petunia pruning the garden hedge. She was doing it awfully slowly for a woman who managed to beautify the whole of her humble yet pretty back yard in just a few hours. He blinked. His long-necked auntie was standing more than three metres away from where she was a split-second ago, the hedgerow between where she was and where she had been was just as carefully trimmed as the rest of the leafy fence that she'd been at all morning.

Harry then watched as she stepped backwards and looked around. Luckily she didn't look up, or she would have seen him staring at her confusedly, wondering what she was doing. What Petunia Dursley (neé Evans) did next was so astounding to Harry, he never quite recovered from the shock he was in. His self-conscious aunt then brandished a long thin piece of wood and Harry scrutinized bemusedly as she uttered a couple of indistinguishable syllables and tapped the hedge twice with her little cane. As she placed the stick back in the pocket of her skirt, Petunia happened to glance upwards and see her nephew staring at her, his eyes wide with befuddlement.

She placed her hand over her heavily lipsticked mouth and sighed. She beckoned Harry towards her, and he followed, as if in a trance.


	2. II: Petunia's Secret

_In answer to reviews, Petunia isn't exactly a witch, so read on:_

II: Petunia's Secret 

Harry trudged down the carpeted stairs almost as slowly as a dead snail. Aunt Petunia? _Aunt Petunia? _Mrs Figg's wizarding prowess was hard to believe, but his Aunt Petunia? That was another matter. He remembered having the same thought, just two years ago, when she mentioned something about Dementors, horrible soul-sucking demons that had only recently betrayed the Ministry and joined Lord Voldemort.

Petunia stood guiltily at the bottom of the stairs.

"Harry," she started, her eyes purposely averting his, "we need to talk."

Harry snorted. "I think I know! Why have you lied for so long? How _could _you lie for this long?"

Petunia put her finger to her lips. As Vernon was at work and Dudley was at his friend Piers Polkiss's house, Harry could only guess that his aunt believed the saying 'walls have ears'.

Petunia beckoned with her long, bony fingers for Harry to enter the living room. As he strode in, his auntie shut the door and burst into the tears of seventeen years of deceit. Harry watched her coldly, not feeling any pity for her whatsoever.

"Explain." said Harry curtly, and she did:

"All of this started when Li… Lil… your mother was accepted into Hog… Hogwa… your school. Our parents cooed over her, mollycoddled her, while I looked on from the sidelines. I was the disappointment, she the prodigal child," here she sniffed sadly, "a bit like you and Dudders, I suppose. Anyway, I got so jealous, that when she was in her third year, April I think, I wrote a letter to Albus Dumbledore, your mother's favourite teacher, and asked if he could teach me magic so that my parents could love me as much as they loved _her_. He sent back a letter telling me to meet him, and he would help me in my plight. He then, from then on for three whole years, taught me how to do some simple magic spells and that's how I get the garden done so nicely, how I cook the tea so beautifully, and it was Dumbledore's idea, not mine (I repeat, _not mine_) that I look after you for all these years with an iron fist, to not tell you about my magical skills, and to treat you like a piece of dirt on my shoe." she winced at the thought, "So you can tell him from me that I'm sorry I've let him down."

"I'm afraid that would be impossible." Harry whispered, trying not to show his raw feelings to his lying aunt, "Dumbledore is dead."

Petunia let out a small wail. This time Harry comforted her.

"So you're a Squib?" Harry asked, "Aren't they meant to come from a magical background?"

"Not a Squib," Petunia straightened up, brushing her blouse and skirt with her manicured hand, "a Half-Blood Squib, or, as most people call us, 'Desperates'."

"Why?" sniffed Harry, "Why lie for all these years?"

"Dumbledore's orders," his aunt replied, "but Arabella Figg has broken them, so at least I'm not the first."

"You knew about Mrs Figg too?" Harry was despairing.

"Oh yes. Trusted her too! Why do you think I left you in her care for all those years?"

Harry went to leave but Petunia stopped him.

"Please Harry!" she cried. "Don't just hate me for ever! What can I do for you? Anything! Something to make up for every day of Hell in Privet Drive. Something to make up for all of your birthdays we've ignored, the Christmases we've barely remembered you!"

Harry stood in the doorway, obviously thinking.

"I know. You can leave here forever with me. You can mix with people who accept me for what you are. You come to my friend's brother's wedding. I'm sure they'd love you there!"

Petunia sighed, tears welling up in the eyes that had just stopped crying, "I'd love to, Harry. I honestly would. But I can't. My place is here. I know it seems incredibly tedious to you, but you and I are very different. Vernon may seem a monster to you, and Dudley a fat, ungrateful balloon, but to me they are the people I love, always have done, always will. I'm not proud of what I did in my youth, the magic and all that, but I do enjoy it, although I'm ashamed. You go if you really want to go, I can't stop you, but don't leave until tomorrow as it's your birthday and I think I should give you your present of your total departure on the day – it would be more apt. Thank you Harry, you've been very considerate after all I've done, what I've caused. Thank you so much."

At this, she brushed tearfully past him and left the room, headed for the garden, probably to perform some more minor spells.

Harry sighed sadly. He traipsed up to his room, his heart sunken and still, compared to compared to coming down the stairs just a few minutes before, when it had been bouncing all over the place.

As he reached his bedroom, what Petunia had said was still well and truly floating around his brain. She was right; it was his seventeenth birthday tomorrow, when he was thought of as a licensed wizard, able to use whatever spells, whenever he liked.

He lay on his bed, wondering how he could leave tomorrow afternoon. Subtly? Dramatically? Quietly? Rowdily? Politely? He could not make his mind up.

He decided to let his snowy owl Hedwig out of her cage, to catch a mouse, or maybe even to make a trip to his friends' houses, to see if they had got him a birthday present, to save the clumsy Weasley owl Errol delivering it.

Harry lay on his bed excitedly, looking forward to freeing himself from home, school, everything, and becoming an adventurer, or maybe even an outlaw.

Little did he know, that dream wouldn't come true until January, for all the wrong reasons.


	3. III: Narcissa's Promise

_Answers to reviews:_

_pinksparklez – Dumbledore did not want Harry to guess that_

_Petunia was a HBS therefore she needed to treat_

_him as a complete inferior._

_Dwntwndanbrwn – Yes. The Ministry came up with the idea in a _

_Council meeting in 1863, after a man called_

_Lysander Hummingdale became jealous of his_

_wizarding sister, Esther. (just made that up, by _

_the way!)_

III: Narcissa's Promise 

Narcissa Malfoy sat alone in her mansion, crying. She had done a lot of that since Lucius left, and even more after Draco's departure. She had decided that she would go and live with her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange. Although she and her sibling had had minor discrepancies in the past, they both served the same leader, and it would be less visits for Voldemort to make if the two Death Eaters resided in the same building.

Narcissa sniffed. She had cried herself to sleep for over a month now, and she needed to do something about it. She couldn't wallow in self-pity for all her life, could she? She would seek guidance from the Dark Lord himself, pleading for him to help, tell her how to run her own life – no! Voldemort would only punish her for not taking revenge upon Harry Potter for being behind the arrest of her husband, or even upon Severus Snape, a man whom she had trusted with her own son's life, and had failed her, stealing Draco.

"Please," she sniffed, she had taken up hopelessly talking to herself as there was no one else around, "Lucius, Draco, come home!"

"Mother?" A voice from behind her gave her a fright, and she jolted upright and quickly turned, drawing her rosewood wand from her pocket. She squealed and ran into her son's arms, holding him tightly as if he were about to go away again.

"You're back!" she cried, not letting go, "Why did you let me stay like this, worried sick, weeping perpetually, wondering what Snape had done to you. I saw that Dumbledore had been slain and silently rejoiced until I read that you were missing, and, what's more – _you _didn't kill him. I know I disapproved of doing something so important in your youth, but I did think that you could manage it. What came over you?" Narcissa was an angry mother now, the tearstains that had previously saturated her clothes, looking almost invisible, as if her fury had covered them up.

"I – I – don't know. I just couldn't. I saw him there, just a weak old man, and I thought 'he hasn't done me any harm, in fact, he has hosted me well through six whole years of education, so why should I murder him?'"

Draco's mother looked as if she had just been hit by a wet fish.

"You're turning soft," she sniffed, shocked at what her normally arduous son had just said, "just like Dumbledore was, and Harry Potter still is."

Draco scoffed and brushed his mother off of him.

"How dare you!" he exclaimed, as if she had said something terrible, "You have no right! Severus told me how emotional you were when you turned up with Aunt Bellatrix at Spinner's End."

It was Narcissa's turn to look taken aback with rage, "Where is that insolent, conniving fool? Has he scampered off, worried what I would say to him about stealing my child like that? I hope the Dark Lord has a penalty in mind to repent him for what he has done. "

"He has done exactly what you just said."

"But Death Eaters stand tall!"

Narcissa and Draco put their left hands flat out against each other as they repeated the words of the incantation made to create a miniature Dark Mark in their right hands, which were stretched out to the heavens: "_Morsmordre Dexterus!"_

The skull and snake emblems hovered just above the palms of both mother and son. Eventually they faded.

"Now, mother. Now do you believe in my faith?"

"Of course, my darling. I never doubted it."

"And I'll be able to demonstrate it in Hogwarts in September!"

"No," said Narcissa firmly, "as much as I want you to be educated fully, I think that that would be a _very_ bad idea."

"But Dumbledore has gone forever," pleaded Draco.

"But McGonagall is still at large," replied his mother, with a definite hint of finality in her voice, "and anyway, I have a great plan."

"What?" asked Draco, suddenly excited.

"Well," said Narcissa, beginning to smile for the first time in weeks, maybe even months, "although you are back, we are just as we were last September. We are still missing out on the head of the Malfoy table, the backbone to our family life……"

"We're going to steal Father?"

"Correct, my son. We will get your father from the dreaded Azkaban, although I am certainly not looking forward to going back there after last time. We will redeem Lucius's name back to the former glory that it boasted. The Malfoys will return to the Dark Lord's favour, and we will rise, rise to the top and bask in the light of others' terror!"

Draco smiled at his mother's uninterrupted enthusiasm, and felt like a curmudgeon when he spoke.

"When shall we depart?"

"Well, I need a thorough wash, I have been bathing less and less since my bout of depression. I also need to arrange a visiting time with the guards. Entering boldly is surprisingly less conspicuous than sneaking in."

"I completely agree mother. Shall I go and contact the prison now?"

"I suppose," Narcissa stopped suddenly and looked into the cold, stony grey eyes of her son, "I am so very proud of you, Draco. Always remember that."


	4. IV: Owl Post Again

IV: Owl Post Again 

It was fifteen minutes past twelve, and Harry Potter had been seventeen years old for a quarter of an hour. He was wide-awake, pondering about the unexpected twists that were happening all around him. _Crack!_ His bedroom window splintered slightly, giving him a shock. A white shadow was pecking at his window from outside, its wings flapping madly.

"Hedwig!" Harry whispered, darting to the window and opening it. The snowy owl swooped in, followed by a Scops owl, an Eagle owl, two tawny owls and an eager little bird, fluttering its tiny wings about, and flitting around Harry's bedroom.

"Pigwidgeon," he smiled, and sat on the bed expectantly.

Each bird in turn came forward and planted a parcel on his lap.

The owls all took their place on Harry's pillow and bickered quietly, whilst he opened the presents and envelopes in turn.

First he took the envelope that one of the tawny owls had brought. The envelope was plain and brown, with a small motif in the corner, reading: _W-D_. He ripped the seal, and picked out a blue piece of paper, which said:

_Dear Mr H. Potter,_

_You are invited to the joyous wedding of Mr William Broderick Weasley and Ms Fleur Beatrice Delacour. The celebration will take place at St Anthony's church of the Seven Sacraments, and will take place on Sunday the seventh of August. As we wish you to come and stay prior to this event, no further instructions shall be made._

_Yours excitedly,_

_Fleur x x x_

Harry folded the wedding invite and stuffed it into his jeans pocket. He then proceeded in choosing the next parcel to open. He picked the other tawny's mail. It was in a white envelope, and written in an untidy scrawl.

**Harry,**

**Happy birthday. I hope you are okay. We hope to see you returning to Hogwarts next year–- we have heard you are thinking of otherwise. Don't bother replying; we'll see you at the wedding.**

**Tonks & Lupin x**

Harry frowned. How had Tonks found out about his plans for the year? He knew Ron and Hermione wouldn't have told anyone – they had decided to come too. They were the only living beings that knew their plans. He chose to think about it later, and to open the other parcels first. He picked the Scops's delivery – a blue envelope with his name on, written in a tidy cursive script. He picked out a card.

_Dear Harry,_

_Happy Birthday,_

_Love Hermione xxxxxx_

_P.S. I hope you like the pressie!_

_P.P.S My parents aren't agreeing with letting me go. They don't know what I'm going for of course, but they don't like the idea. I have told them not to tell anybody. I'll work on them letting me._

_P.P.P.S See you at the wedding!_

Harry looked down at the present, disgruntled. He wasn't pleased with the way his escapade ideas were working out. With Hermione probably not coming, he'd have to look after Ron on his own – a task not even worthy of Draco Malfoy.

He ripped the purple wrapping paper off the parcel and saw a thick book. It was entitled 'Quidditch: A History'. He smiled. Although Harry wasn't fond of reading, he enjoyed learning about the wizarding sport that he loved so much. He moved the book to his side, and reached for the next card; Ron's. It was on top of a huge parcel – Harry was surprised that Hedwig could carry such a large parcel. He opened the card first:

**Harry,**

**Happy birthday,**

**Ron**

**P.S. see you at the wedding.**

**_Harry dear,_**

**_Have a very happy birthday, and make sure you attend school next year,_**

**_Molly xxxxxx_**

**Fred George** Arthur _Ginny x _**Bill** **_Charlie_**

Harry frowned again. Word had certainly got out! He let it go, and opened the present. It was a gigantic box of sweets that could last him a whole year! He grinned, as if Ron was there in front of him. He put the sweets aside for later, and picked up the last letter and parcel, delivered by the elegant Eagle owl.

He decided to open the parcel first this time, and was surprised to find that it had holes! There was a label attached, that was written in Hagrid's untidy writing, and Harry suddenly realised what the holes were for. He dreaded to think what kind of animal lay in store for him, and plucked up the courage to open it. It was a circular box, so when Harry picked it up, his hands slipped, and the box fell through. He suddenly looked down and gasped, horrified. A lengthy snake hissed at him and slithered under the bed. Harry's heart was racing when he finally opened the last card. It was emblazoned with the Hogwarts coat of arms. Two pieces of paper fell out. The first one he picked up was a list of what Harry needed for his last year at school. He ripped it up and looked at the second letter. It was hand-written. It read:

**Potter,**

**You _will _be returning to Hogwarts this year, no matter what you and you friends might think. Whilst you read this letter, a guard of powerful witches and wizards are circling Privet Drive. You cannot escape. I am worried for you Potter, your welfare means a lot to me. Until the wedding,**

**Yours sincerely,**

**Professor Minerva McGonagall**

**P.S. Happy birthday**

Harry cursed under his breath. That old hag had somehow discovered his plans. He had to get away, right away.


	5. V: Minerva's Proposition

V: Minerva's Proposition 

Professor Minerva McGonagall sat on a chintz armchair in her humble abode. Her lined face had wrinkled even more, due to the stress she was enduring as the newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her small yet ostentatious home was occupied by another person, someone whom she had not told the world about. This particular young woman who lived in McGonagall's house was pretty, carefree, and led an ordinary wizarding life just like her peers, yet had not let off that she was the secret daughter of the newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She lightly stepped into the room, wearing a long leather jacket, her black hair cascading down her back. She leapt onto the chaise longue, much to the annoyance of Minerva.

"Feet off!" barked the professor, glaring at her daughter, "he's a bad influence, you know that? You never acted like this when you were courting…" she sniffed sadly, "Diggory."

The nineteen year old sat up straight and put her boot-clad feet on the mauve carpet. She was irritated that her mother had yet again mentioned her first love. She looked at McGonagall fiercely, "Yes. And then he dumped me for that Chang girl, the stud."

Minerva gasped in shock, "You don't speak of the deceased with that attitude!"

The girl stared at her mother anxiously. Didn't she understand the mental pain he'd put her through? "I loved him! I actually loved him! Don't you see? He put me through misery, through –"

"No he didn't!" McGonagall stood up, "Just because he was attractive doesn't mean you loved him!"

The girl stood up as well, "Attractive? He was kind, loving, and more to the point, he wasn't just attractive, he was bleeding gorgeous!"

"Stop!" shouted McGonagall, "We're not having this fight yet again!"

Mother and daughter sat down. There was silence for a few seconds, and then the girl spoke up, "What's wrong with Frederick?"

Minerva laughed. "What's wrong with Frederick? I'll tell you what's wrong with Frederick! He's irresponsible, immature, impudent, all the 'i's!"

"What? Like intelligent, independent,"

"Insecure, indifferent,"

"Interesting, erm… um…oh, let's stop that now. I'm going there to stay in half an hour and that's that."

There was almost a minute's silence, when the girl spoke up again, "How's the management going?"

"Frightfully," Minerva sighed, "I need somebody to replace me as a Transfiguration teacher. I've got Defence Against the Dark Arts sorted, but-"

"Who?"

"A middle-aged woman called Linda Updike. Medium height, stick skinny, and a seemingly ghastly personality! She doesn't seem too special, but as Remus refused, I had no choice. Oh, and darling? Do you, by chance, happen to know anybody who's interested in the job?"

"Well give me details, and I'll think of somebody who fits the bill. Hey, you never know, Frederick might be interested!" she laughed at her mother's flinch, "I'm only joking!"

"Well," Minerva McGonagall thought about it, "they need to be quite responsible (that rules your dear boyfriend out of the picture!), they need to be exceptionally good at magic, and they need to be ready to lead, as it is usually the Transfiguration teacher who obtains headship after the Headmaster or Mistress steps down."

The girl smiled triumphantly. "Guess who!" she grinned.

McGonagall frowned, and then her face dawned with realisation.

"I'm so stupid! I've been racking my brains out thinking of someone, and they're standing, well, actually sitting in front of me the whole time!" she smiled, her wrinkles multiplying as she did so, "Daughter of mine, will you follow me in my footsteps and become Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"

The young woman pretended to think about it. "I would be honoured to!"

The two women embraced, their moment defeated by the head of Rubeus Hagrid appearing in the fireplace. He frowned for a second and then said, "Professor McGonagall! Remus 'as just apparated in. Harry's on the move!"

Hagrid disappeared, and Minerva let go of her daughter's long, slender body. She stood on her toes and kissed her on the forehead.

"I've got to go. I'll see you at the wedding!"

And with a small_ pop! _she apparated away.

The girl sighed and trudged up to her room. She had to pack for her visit to her boyfriend's busy family home.

Her bedroom was simple, tidy and clean, with the walls and ceiling covered in posters. Names popped out, like headlines in a cluttered newspaper: _The Weird Sisters_, _Viktor Krum_, _Chudley Cannons_ and _Zsa Zsa Simone_.

She opened her wardrobe and started a mass exodus of gothic attire from their previous home, to a purple suede travelling case. She then fetched a toiletry bag, some money, seventeen books, a pile of parchment, three fresh quills, a pot of red ink, and then looked over to a framed photograph on her bedside table.

She sniffed wretchedly as she looked at the moving picture of Cedric Diggory, taken when they were together. She then glanced at the case, then back at Cedric, and blew out her cheeks. She zipped her case and looked across at Diggory.

"You've put me through enough trauma. Farewell. I love you."

And with that, she picked up her travelling case and a silver-grey cauldron full of scales and potion ingredients.

She jumped up, and before she landed on the fluffy carpet again, she had disapparated to a house brimming with lots of people with ginger hair, and one with silvery blonde.


	6. VI: Harry and Minerva

_pinksparklez – it won't leave you guessing for much longer! Until_

_Chapter VII to be precise! _

VI: Harry and Minerva 

Harry had stuffed his clothes, presents etc. into a giant suitcase. He hooked the loop on the top of Hedwig's cage onto the back of his Firebolt, tied the case to the twigs at the end, and hopped on.

He opened his bedroom window as far as it could go, and leapt out, scraping the side with the suitcase. He dropped immediately, but managed to swerve back up just as his legs skimmed the acacia bush under his room. He regained his breath, and swooped onwards and upwards into the night sky.

It was barely five seconds before he heard something behind him. He risked turning around to see what it was, and that was his first mistake. The second was that, as he gasped to see Nymphadora Tonks rushing towards him on a Cleansweep Seven, he ducked down, only to see Mundungus Fletcher looking up to greet him. He tried jerking to the right, but Arthur Weasley smiled at him, as if appearing out of the darkness of the night. He swivelled one hundred and eighty degrees to see Alastor "Mad-eye" Moody sitting on his Nimbus Two Thousand, drinking soup from his infamous hipflask.

"I suggest you give yourself up now, Potter," he growled, in a slightly amused way, "or it might get quite embarrassing on your behalf. Remus!" he turned to his left, and Remus Lupin emerged from the gloomy haze, "go and tell Rubeus to inform Minerva that Potter's going nowhere."

At this, Harry was engulfed by the four members of the Order, and escorted back to number four, Privet Drive.

The five of them stepped into the house, after Moody had opened the back door with the 'Alohomora' enchantment.

"Well, well Potter," sighed Moody, looking at Harry with normal and magical eye alike, "you've got yourself in quite a fix this time. Minerva doesn't approve of 'bunking off school' as they say these days."

"I…I…well," Harry stammered, purposely looking away from Moody, especially his magical eye, "Ron and Hermione were planning on it too. Why didn't they get this security?"

Moody barked with mirth, "Weasley is surrounded by wizards who could easily stop him, and Granger is sensible enough not to run away anyway."

Harry sighed. "I suppose you know that my Aunt Petunia is a Half-Blood Squib?"

Moody nodded roughly, "Yes, I knew that."

"And," Harry started; he was going to ask something that he had recently been wondering about, "did your informant, you know, the person who told you about my plans for this year, did they mention why I wasn't intending to go back to Hogwarts?"

Mr Weasley came forward, "Fred took care of that. She…I mean the informant didn't know that he was going to tell us why straight afterwards. What I didn't realise, is that Fred would tell George, and George would tell Charlie, who would tell Bill, who would tell Fleur, who would accidentally mention to her mother-in-law-to-be, and now Molly is fretting that you, Ron and Hermione are going to do something that will lead to your death, and consequently everyone else's," he took a sharp intake of breath, and whispered to Harry, "you couldn't tell me what that does could you?" He pointed to the microwave sitting on the work surface, "Is it a kind of television?"

Harry had to laugh at this, "No Mr Weasley, it's a microwave. It's like a cooker for a certain type of food."

Mr Weasley gasped in admiration and strolled over to it, picking it up in wonder.

_Pop!_ Minerva McGonagall stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking straight at Harry with her piercing eyes.

"Mr Potter, I think you'll agree when I say you have some serious explaining to do."

"Professor, I…I…I don't know what to say."

McGonagall laughed mirthlessly, "That certainly is a first, Potter. You usually seem to have at least three different excuses and comebacks to absolutely everything I say, even if I just say hello! But anyway, I hope you're feeling mightily guilty, as you are in serious trouble, no matter what you can (or in this case can't) say to defend yourself!"

"Professor," Harry pleaded, "you have to see why I was planning what I was planning!"  
McGonagall frowned gently, yet with a hint of finality in her stare, "I know exactly why you were planning what you were planning, and believe me, I totally approve of your bravery, yet I sincerely disapprove of your choice of time to be brave in!" she looked at him firmly, and then sighed, "Harry, what we see to be bravery can look a lot different to say, people like Rita Skeeter, who, by the way is back at large and eager to discover an interesting secret of yours. Now think how unbearably triumphant she'll be when she unearths the fact that Harry Potter has scrapped school with his long term best friend and girlfriend to go and act the hero! I can see it now: 'POTTER DITCHES OLD WITCH _Headmistress McGonagall left in ruin._'

She'll jump at the chance – as will your other less corrupt enemies: Dolores Umbridge, Kreacher the House-elf, Percy Weasley and Marietta Edgecombe to name a few. You'll be in a lot less danger at Hogwarts."

"But I don't care!" shouted Harry, back into his old routine of yelling at McGonagall, "Ron, Hermione and I are ready for this. We have planned this, it isn't as if we aren't organised."

McGonagall pursed her lips as annoyingly as Aunt Petunia, "Well explain this to me – why were you planning to leave without them, earlier than was planned, and not even going to go to the wedding of your best friend's brother?"

Harry sniffed, "I panicked. Somebody had found out about our plan and had told everyone whom I care about that we were going on a dangerous mission that could easily end in our deaths."

Minerva frowned for a second, and then moved closer to Harry. Sensing that she was going to tell Harry a secret, Tonks, Arthur, Mundungus and Moody stepped back a few paces so as not to invade on their privacy.

McGonagall looked at Harry seriously and said, "Potter, I have a daughter. You'll most definitely meet her tomorrow. Now she was there all the time when Albus told you about the Horcruxes and the history of Vol…Volde…Tom Riddle," she saw Harry's horrified look, "oh no, she wasn't my spy. Dumbledore knew that she was there. But she heard everything, and could tell by her knowledge of you that you would do something rash, like leave school and go and chase after a psychopath who plots to kill you."

"What do you mean, 'her knowledge of me''?"

"Oh, she's known you ever since your second year, but you haven't known her, well, not as she really is."

Harry was about to question her further, when there were noises from upstairs. The Dursleys had woken.


	7. VII: A Dursley Farewell

_dwntwndanbrwn – to be fair, she didn't have much choice._

VII: A Dursley Farewell "Who's there?" Uncle Vernon shouted from upstairs. There was a loud commotion as he and the other Dursleys stumbled down the stairs in the dark. He thundered along the hall, and Harry, McGonagall, Tonks, Moody, Arthur and Mundungus all panicked and ran quickly to hide. Vernon, Petunia and Dudley toppled into the kitchen and looked around at a young woman with shoulder length pink hair (whom they had been acquainted with just over a year before) looking frantically around for a place to conceal herself. She looked up at the three astounded people in front of her. "Oh bugger," she said. There was a mass sighing throughout the room, much to the shock of the Dursleys. A middle-aged man whom they had witnessed destroy their fireplace just three years beforehand stepped out from behind the fridge. A youngish man, probably in his mid to late thirties climbed out of the cupboard under the sink, stretching his back, as it had been painfully cramped. As if that wasn't strange enough for Vernon, Petunia and Dudley, an old man with an uncontrollable eye clambered out of the cooker, causing Petunia to scream, and an old woman leapt out from beneath the table, followed by their nephew. "YOU!" bellowed Vernon, his already mauve face turning distinctly crimson, his countless chins wobbling. "Yes, me." Harry strolled towards him half-heartedly, remaining remarkably calm. "You've really done it this time, boy. How DARE you invite strangers into MY humble abode, in which I have permitted you to stay in for SIXTEEN years!" Minerva McGonagall stepped lightly forward. "I am _ever _so sorry about this, but it isn't Harry's fault at all. I think you'll find that he was leaving the house, when we, that is to say my colleagues stopped him, and brought him back here, to your delightful domicile." "And what gives you the right?" Uncle Vernon was now verging on blue. McGonagall crossed her arms and stood up tall, which, considering she was quite an elderly woman, was rather tall indeed. "I am the newly appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which, as you know, Mr Potter here is starting his final year at on September the First." "What happened to Fumbledee, or whatever the last Head was called?" McGonagall sniffed sadly, and was joined by six others in the room, "Albus Dumbledore was murdered by another member of staff last term." Vernon laughed gruffly, "You need to keep your workforce happy this time. Petunia, why are you weeping like the rest of these idiots?" Petunia glanced pleadingly at Harry, but Harry looked back sternly, and she gazed at her husband tearfully, "Vernon, darling, there's something you and Dudders ought to know." She ushered the other two Dursleys into the hall and shut the door. When it was quiet again, McGonagall looked at Harry and scoffed. 

"What a nasty piece of work! I did wonder why you always seemed so miserable about going back to Little Whinging."

Harry looked back at her, "Well now you know." he frowned for a second, "Professor?"

"Yes?"

He leaned closer towards her and whispered, "Why have you kept it so quiet that you have a daughter?"

McGonagall sighed dejectedly, "I don't know. It just happened that way. She doesn't mind people not knowing who her parents are; in fact I believe she prefers it!"

"And Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Who _are _her parents? Well of course you, but what I'm trying to get at is –"

"Harry?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"That's none of your business."

They broke apart, and the silence congested when noises were heard from the hall.

"WHAT?"

"Well I know it isn't what you'd want, but –"

"What were you thinking?"

The three Dursleys came back into the room. Petunia was deathly white, Vernon a beautiful shade of cerulean blue, and Dudley strayed behind looking stunned.

"Your race is evil!" Vernon cried at McGonagall, Tonks, Moody, Arthur and Mundungus, but mainly at Harry, "How dare you do that to my wife!"

"Vernon," Petunia wailed, "it can be quite helpful at times."

Vernon looked at her, and sighed, "I'm sure it can be, but how could you give in to such malevolent practises?"

"Jealousy!" moaned Petunia, "I was envious of Lily's powers. I wanted them for my own. Our parents treated me as the boring one, the drab one on the side, the cheaper object in the Buy One Get One Free sale."

Vernon's indigo visage turned ghostly white, "You had that despicable childhood, and you still brought Potter up like this?"

"You weren't much better, in fact you're a lot worse! You are the one who physically hurts the boy!"

As the two Dursleys bickered, Tonks looked at McGonagall.

"I'll collect Harry's things, you go straight to the Burrow."

Minerva nodded, and Tonks squeezed past the arguing couple into the rest of the house.

"Harry," McGonagall looked at him, "now is your time to say goodbye."

The four remaining members of the Order huddled together, and Harry walked up to Petunia, Vernon and Dudley.

"Bye-bye," he said, looked at them almost fondly. He turned, and grabbed McGonagall outstretched hand. As the apparation took place, Harry managed a glimpse at the Dursleys, seeing them for probably the very last time. He sighed. He was now seen to be a registered wizard. Life was going to be different now, he could tell.


	8. VIII: McGonagall's Daughter

VIII: McGonagall's Daughter 

Harry stood alongside McGonagall and the other members of the Order in front of the rickety asymmetric house that was the Burrow – the home of his friend Ron, and the rest of the Weasley family.

"You can go if you like," McGonagall said, turning to Moody and Mundungus.

The three associates disapparated, leaving Harry with Arthur Weasley and his new Headmistress.

They walked towards the ramshackle dwelling, and Minerva pulled Harry aside as Arthur carried on to the front door.

"Harry," she looked at him seriously, "I am going to find my daughter. You stay here until I get back."

He stood by the shed, and waited. He then heard a noise behind him. He frowned, and opened the door. He gasped. Fred was standing in there, kissing a young woman. They broke apart, and he looked at Harry embarrassedly. He quickly disapparated, unlike the young woman, who stepped lightly forward, and stuck out her hand.

"Harry!" she smiled so sweetly that Harry felt his cheeks go scarlet, "We meet at last!"

Harry was confused. "Who are you?" he asked, yet, even as he said it, he vaguely recognised her.

"Why I'm Miracula Vipertooth. I know you, but I'm not sure you know me."

"I…I do think I've seen you before," he said quietly.

"Your fourth year, Beauxbatons crowd, next to Fleur Delacour when she was called up as a Champion."

The memory came flooding back. The grinning face – younger, yet unmistakeably the same – giving Fleur a hug as she strode up to Dumbledore.

"Remember?"

Harry nodded, "You went to Beauxbatons but you're most definitely English?"

It was Miracula's turn to nod. She sniffed, "Mummy didn't want me to go to Hogwarts. She didn't think it was fair for me to be taught by own mother; and I kind of know what she meant."

Harry's face dawned with realisation.

"You!" he cried. She put her finger on her lips urgently, "You've spied on me. You told everyone about my plans!"

She nodded enigmatically, and, as if to prove how she did it, she transformed into a large red bird, the same phoenix that had lived in Professor Dumbledore's office for years.

"Fawkes!" Harry exclaimed loudly, questions filling his head as he did so, "You saved me in second year when you should have been in Beauxbatons! You were in Dumbledore's office when I looked in the Pensieve, when Dumbledore told me of the prophecy, when I had lessons on the history of Voldemort!" Harry noticed that she did not flinch when he spoke the Dark Lord's name, "You've watched me ever since I first set foot in that office!"

Miracula converted back into a slender, beautiful woman and rolled her eyes, "Mummy was right. You are a nasty piece of work! In answer to your first query, we had our third term in our fifth year off, as Madame Maxime was mourning after her mother's death and none of the other teachers wanted to replace her for a few months. In answer to your second, third and fourth complaints, yes, I did witness all of those happenings, and, in answer to your fifth, that is also correct, I have watched you for years. Ever since I left Beauxbatons, I have secretly lived in Hogwarts for most of the year, but gone home with Mummy for the summer."

Harry was about to say something along the lines of telling her that it was creepy, and she should be ashamed of herself, watching him for years, but the silence was broken, not by Harry, or even Miracula, but by McGonagall.

"Sorry Harry, she doesn't seem to be around, but I'm sure you'll meet her soon enough."

As Harry was standing just outside the shed, and Miracula in it, McGonagall could see Harry, but not her daughter. Harry stepped back, and Miracula bounded out, giving her mother a shock.

"Miracula!" she clutched her heart and shook her head, "I see you've met Harry. Now, Molly wants you inside to peel some potatoes for lunch. Go!"

Miracula skipped down the drive towards the Burrow, and Harry looked up at McGonagall, "Professor?"

"Yes, Potter?"

"Why is Miracula living here?"

McGonagall sighed snobbishly, "She is courting Fred Weasley, and is the best friend of Fleur Delacour, and so Molly and Arthur kindly invited her to stay until September. Now, we'd better get you inside. I wonder where Nymphadora is?"

Right on cue, Tonks apparated in front of them, carrying two humungous suitcases, a birdcage and a snake basket.

"Oh, Harry," McGonagall looked at him, "it was my idea for Hagrid to get you a snake."

Harry was taken aback.

"Why?"

"So that you can practise your Parseltongue. Nagini isn't just going to fall into your grasp."

Harry was about to ask how McGonagall knew Harry wanted to destroy the Horcrux that was Voldemort's pet snake, but then his mind was cast to the pretty young woman to whom he had just been talking. Miracula may have been likeable, vivacious and attractive, but she had ruined his plans, and may have put the wizarding and muggle worlds alike in terrible danger, and for that, she would pay.

If he'd known that she was dating his best friend's brother to forget someone else, and had told everyone that he was running away so that she could keep an eye on him, and that she was going to experience some horrible events in the near future, and that she shared a secret with her mother about the third member of her immediate family, and that she would die in a horrible way, and that she was completely selfless, and that she would do something lovely for his favourite family, and that she cared about people more than most, he may not have felt that way.

But the daughter of Minerva McGonagall may have been brilliant, but she loved too passionately, hated too bitterly, felt guilt too strongly, and felt pain too agonisingly. She had too many sorrows in her head to be truly happy, no matter how cheerful she seemed.


	9. IX: The Burrow

IX: Life at the Burrow 

"Come on, Potter," said McGonagall, striding towards the dilapidated yet wonderful building, "let's get you settled."

Tonks handed the luggage to Harry, and said, turning to Minerva, "I'd better get off. I don't like spending too much time with Molly any more – in case she tries to marry me off to Charlie! See you at the wedding!"

She disapparated elegantly, as McGonagall and Harry waved at her, smiling. They carried on walking.

"Professor?"

"Yes, Harry?" McGonagall was growing increasingly annoyed, as she had only been with Harry for about half an hour, and almost every line he had uttered to her had been that of 'Professor?'

"Don't you think it crude, to have somebody invade my life and watch over it?"

"I see where you're coming from, Potter, but, as we know how… irresponsible you've been, I believe that it was a good idea. And anyway, why so bitter about Miracula? She saved your life when you were in your second year. Oh, and by the way, don't mention to the Weasleys about me being her mother, as Frederick would throw a dickey fit, and Molly would treat her as if she was a celebrity, and she doesn't want that. Fleur knows though, they're the best of friends nowadays."

Harry laughed to himself. He didn't think that was the only reason a young, fashionable woman with her whole abundant life ahead of her would hide the fact that the not so exhilarating Minerva McGonagall had given birth to her nineteen years and nine and a half months previously.

The mismatched pair knocked on the old wooden door. Molly's voice sounded from just inside the door.

"Come in, Minerva. We're just making brunch!"

They stepped inside to see Molly at the sink washing potatoes to make a salad, and Miracula sitting cross-legged on the floor, stirring an indefinable red liquid with little lumps inside.

"Harry! Happy birthday!" Molly cried, dropping the potatoes into the sink and running over to embrace Harry.

Miracula frowned guiltily, "Oh, happy birthday," and then suddenly smiled, "aha! I know just what you might like!"

She ran away to the stairs, and McGonagall looked at Molly and Harry.

"I suppose I'd better be getting off then."

Molly gasped, "No, Minerva! I _insist _you stay for brunch. Now, you and Harry sit down, and I'll make some tea."

Miracula reappeared, gasping after running up and down three flights of stairs. Her hands were behind her back.

"I was saving it as a grand opening for the wedding reception, but I know you'd better have it now."

She brandished a golden cup from behind her back, and laid it on the kitchen table. It was embellished with the letters _HH_. Harry gazed at it in wonder.

"Helga Hufflepuff's cup! The third Horcrux!"

She nodded politely and stepped backwards.

"Mrs Weasley," he said, "could I use a hammer please?"

Mrs Weasley looked confused, but when nobody else did, she opened a cupboard, brought out a toolbox, and picked a large hammer out of it. She handed it to Harry.

He held it in both hands, and brought it over his head. The three women who were accompanying him stepped backwards. He swung it down onto the cup with a loud crash. It shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, which spread themselves across the kitchen, never to be worried about again. Molly pulled a face.

"Harry dear, Miracula gave that to you as a present. You shouldn't destroy gifts."

Miracula snorted, "Molly, I gave that to Harry for him to break. It was a seventh of Voldemort's soul – a Horcrux."

Molly and McGonagall jumped when Miracula said the Dark Lord's name.

Molly furrowed her brow in thought, "So that makes You Know Who almost immortal?" the other three nodded, so she continued, "Then why doesn't everyone have a few Horcruckles?"

Miracula sighed knowingly, a lot like Hermione did, "To create a Horcrux, you need to commit a heinous crime, which rips your soul apart. This is usually done through murder, but I would guess rape is just as effective. Then you have to perform a complex enchantment on an object or animal, which seals your soul inside it."

Mrs Weasley nodded sadly, silently wishing her family were immortal, and then she wouldn't have to worry about them day in and day out, and fretting over the slightest thing.

The poignant silence was broken by Fleur appearing at the foot of the stairs. Her throaty syllables sounded worried.

"What was zat terrible – oh! Harry! I did not realise zat you had come zis early! Ron and 'Ermione are in his bedroom. Molly! Why 'ave you not told our guest sooner?"

Molly sighed. Life was so much more peaceful without the delectable Phlegm.

"Phle – Fleur is right, Harry. They are in his room. I trust that you remember where that is?"

"Yes, Mrs Weasley."

And he strode towards the stairs without a backwards glance at the four women who watched him leave.

As he walked up the stairs, he was suddenly aware of how many people there were in the Burrow. As well as six of the Weasley children (almost all of which were adults now), there was Molly, Arthur, Fleur, Miracula, Hermione, and a few other people dotted around. When Harry was walking up the second flight of stairs, for example, Katie Bell appeared at the top, wearing only a towel.

"Oh, hello Harry!" she said embarrassedly, and disappeared from view. Harry supposed she was with George, but you could never tell with the Weasleys.

When he was walking along the small corridor on the fourth story, George ran out of the room in front of him, followed by Charlie, holding a wand up in the air. They seemed to be so engrossed in chasing after each other, they completely ignored the boy they had almost knocked over.

He climbed the last flight of stairs, and reached Ron's bedroom door. He knocked, and there was a loud shuffling noise from inside. He pushed open the door to see Ron staring at a Chudley Cannons poster suspiciously, and Hermione lying on a camp bed reading a Quidditch book. If that wasn't fishy enough, it was upside down. They looked at him.

"Harry!" they cried in unison. Hermione ran to hug him, but he stayed looking at the smeared pinkish lipstick on his cheek.

Hermione broke off. She was, lo and behold, wearing cherry coloured gloss on her lips.


	10. X: Brunch

_IloveJesus7390 – Miracula has secrets just like you and me._

_Pinksparklez – Thanks!_

X: Brunch 

..:Ron's Bedroom:..

"He…Hello," Harry said, in shock. Was he just being paranoid, or had they? Well, had they? He didn't want to dwell on the point, he hadn't seen Ron and Hermione for a week or two, and he didn't want to spoil it like he had done in his fifth year.

"You don't seem very pleased to see us!" smiled Ron.

Harry grinned. He'd save the anger until he was sure.

**..:Downstairs:..**

Molly continued in making brunch, forcing Fleur to do likewise, and Minerva pulled Miracula to the corner of the kitchen and glared at her.

"A Horcrux?" she snarled angrily, "You kept part of the Dark Lord's soul in the house of some innocent people? What on Earth were you thinking, my child?"

Miracula looked forlorn, "I didn't think. That was the problem. I just thought Bill would approve of me helping to destroy Lord Voldemort at his wedding. And anyway, what's done is done, but four sevenths of hissoul remain. But this isn't a time for hardship, it should be a time for rejoicing, and anyway, when Harry discovers Ron and Hermione's secret, _that _will be a time for bloody hardship!"

McGonagall widened her eyes interestedly, "What secret would that be?"

Miracula smiled pleasantly, "Don't you know? We all think they've got a bit of a thing going on."

"Who is 'we'?"

"Fred, George, Molly, Arthur, everyone really."

McGonagall scoffed, "So it is almost definitely true! How interesting! I congratulate Ronald, but Granger could do a lot better than that!"

Fleur and Molly had brought an end to their conversation about Molly's outfit for the wedding (which, incidentally she hadn't bought yet) to listen to McGonagall and Miracula's. They had started to eavesdrop at the point where they had begun talking about Ron and Hermione. Molly was outraged by McGonagall's last sentence.

"My son is perfect!" she then contemplated about what she'd said and realised her fault, "Oh, whom am I kidding? Carry on."

Miracula opened her mouth to speak, but didn't, as the thought of Molly and Fleur listening had dampened her mood, just like the time George entered the room when she and Fred were kissing.

Instead she walked over to the sideboard, where _The Daily Prophet_ was strewn across it like a rug on a floor. She picked it up and groaned at the front page.

"Skeeter's back. She must have realised that Hermione's deal has well and truly ended."

She glanced at the title and laughed, "Mustn't have got her hands on any good gossip. I quote: '_SCRIMGEOUR ADDED TO CHOCOLATE FROG CARDS a prize that ex-prime minister Cornelius Fudge never got the honour of obtaining. Rita Skeeter reports…_'"

**..:Ron's Bedroom:..**

"So Fred is with Miracula, George is with Katie, of course Bill is with Fleur, and who's Charlie with?"

"No one!" laughed Ron, "He's desperate to get a girlfriend before the wedding. Even bloody Percy's got a girlfriend to take, that Penelope Clearwater, remember her?"

Harry nodded, "So he's coming?"

Ron sniffed, "Although he's a pompous and arrogant pig who doesn't know wrong from right, his heart's in the right place, and anyway, everyone likes weddings, who'd miss one?"

Harry smiled. He wanted them to admit their secret to him, but he wanted to provoke them until they had to first, "So we seem to be the only ones without dates, then?"

Ron and Hermione acquiesced awkwardly.

"So you don't have anyone then?"

They reluctantly nodded. Harry saw that they were regretting lying to their best friend. He was enjoying himself, "So neither of you are seeing anyone?"

Hermione looked at him, smiling away to himself and gasped, "You know! And you just wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth!"

"Or tongue!" he laughed at her as she stomped out embarrassedly.

He then looked at Ron whom Harry noticed was edging his way to the door.

"Don't go," chuckled Harry, "I'm happy for you. I find it hilarious."

Ron's ears had gone scarlet, his face likewise.

"Maybe we'd better go and help with brunch," he managed to utter. They exited.

**..:Downstairs:..**

"Boys!" tutted Hermione, entering the kitchen. Molly was cooking some chicken, by making it hover over a purple fire with her wand.

Fleur had replaced Miracula in stirring the undeterminable liquid, whilst Miracula lay on the work surface reading the newspaper.

McGonagall had taken to bewitching a broom to go around the kitchen sweeping up the remains of the third Horcrux – Helga Hufflepuff's cup.

"What?" asked Miracula lazily, sitting up slightly, her long brown hair tousled.

"They're so self-centred and conceited!"

"What's new?" laughed Miracula, sitting up completely and pushing herself off the side. She brushed her leather cloak down with her hand.

"I'll get the tables sorted!" she volunteered, springing out of the door.

"I'll join you!" said Hermione, walking out with Miracula.

Molly watched them go, and turned back to the chicken.

"Young women!"

**..:Outside:..**

Tables were flying everywhere, and the two young women were running around and trying to crush gnomes with them. Miracula was just dodging a low flying bench, when she said, "So what did Harry say about you and Ron that made you so annoyed?"

Hermione was about to answer, when she frowned and looked Miracula straight in the eyes.

"I didn't mention Harry saying anything about Ron and me. How did you know?"

Miracula suppressed a giggle and said, "Well we've all kind of guessed how long it would be before you told anyone. Bill actually realised you were together about a week and a half ago. I only found out five days ago, when I came for tea."

"You mean to say that you've basically been waiting for us to make ourselves an item, and laughing and betting behind our backs?"

Miracula nodded, and suddenly became very interested in her thumbnail.

Hermione shook her head vigorously and stomped her foot.

They then spent ten minutes putting the tables down, and another five laying them, by which time Molly emerged from the back door holding a giant tray of various dishes.

"Brunch time!" she shouted, strolling out into the garden, followed by McGonagall and Fleur, both carrying more trays.

Abruptly, a mad stampede was heard from inside the house, and, within ten seconds, a hoard of hungry people poured out of the door and sat themselves down along the massive length of table.

Harry was sitting at the centre of the long line of people, and could hear snippets of their conversations.

Fleur was talking to Miracula in fluent French, George was chatting animatedly to Charlie about broomsticks and Quidditch, Bill to Arthur about an embarrassing incident in work, and Molly to McGonagall about one of the fabulous dishes on the table.

"Alors, est-ce que je peux le livre ça tu lee parce que mon livre est ennuyeux?"

"So when you catch the Quaffle…"

"…you put it in the mixture, and then you add…"

"…twelve dozen workers who came to help…"

"…but I cried when I got it wrong the first time! So then I chopped up some…"

"…legs and then you place your hand…"

"…down the trousers of my secretary! And then my boss came in and said…"

"…the game's over. I think it's just…"

"…started bubbling again! And so to make matters even worse…"

"…I added a root vegetable. It seems to give it a flavour that reminds me of…"

"…pure cheek in my opinion! I'd only just…"

"…started to froth in the mouth! I hope it doesn't affect my reputation. Its already as good as a…"

"…chicken's liver. It tastes nice, and what's more, it's incredibly…"

"…evil to me. And it isn't just me, I'll tell you who agrees…"

"…my co-worker! She won't be talking to me for a hell of a long time!"

Harry had to laugh. It was amazing what you could hear from just a few people talking!


End file.
